After
by Titan of Saturn
Summary: And after everything, there was more. And in the end, there was a beginning. Michael's story as the years pass after the collapse of the factory. Chapter Four Tagline: When the letter came, the first thing Michael did was ask the Boss for vacation time.
1. Forget

Disclaimer: I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. This is being written only for pleasure, not for profit. Thank you.

Chapter One: _Sometimes, Michael forgot that he could leave.

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Sometimes, Michael forgot that he could leave. He'd wake up in the morning over his keyboard at the office to Hatori frowning down at him disapprovingly. He'd say something like 'What time is it?' and Hatori would scold him for sleeping in the office.

Michael got in trouble now for sleeping in the office. It was really very strange.

And though most of the time he did it on accident, once in a while Michael would ride the elevator down at the end of the day, say good-bye to the door guard, and head to the gate.

And then, once in a while, Michael would open the gate and stop on the threshold. He would look out at the street and realize that he was one step from being outside, in the real world, and he would freeze.

His eyes would take in every detail about the street outside Raven's Flat through amber tinted glasses, and it would be too much.

Slowly, painfully slowly, as if he was trying not to startle himself, Michael would back away from the door. He would inform the guard that he had just realized there was something more to do in the office, casually and without panic, and retreat back to the fifth floor.

There, he'd break down. Hyperventilate and hide in a corner, until the panic attack was over. After, he'd immerse himself in the digital world where he was safe and comfortable. He'd wake up in the morning over his keyboard to Hatori frowning down at him disapprovingly.

In truth, it happened more often than he'd like to admit.

It wasn't that he didn't like his new freedom, Michael had tried to convince himself one day, it was just that he was so unused to it. He had spent three years getting accustom to imprisonment, and now he was free. Michael found that the phenomenon was called _institutionalization_. It was common in inmates released from prison. And really, Michael mused, that's exactly what he was.

But sometimes he could force himself to leave. On days when he stopped at the door and panicked, he could force himself to take a step, and then another, and then a third, until he was walking to his apartment. And when he'd finally get there, he would collapse into a sobbing mess at the terror he had felt making that journey.

Other days, he'd step outside in exhilaration. Michael would smile and bask in the open air, finding himself laughing at the oddest things during his trek home. It was fantastic. Those days, he loved to be free.

When the others saw him on those days, they would smile and plot to take him on weekend trips. He was always so grateful, and with each trip his view of the world once more expanded.

Once, on a weekend trip to the museum, Michael stopped at the exit.

When he closed his apartment door after the ride home he stumbled into his bathroom and splashed water on his face. Then he sunk to the ground next to it and curled up into a ball of tears. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at his door.

[Later, Michael found out that he'd forgotten to give Dojima her phone back, and Karasuma had driven her back to pick it up.]

He had tried to pull himself together to answer the door, but he hadn't been able to get these episodes to end in less than thirty minutes. Forcing himself to go outside had always been worse than giving in and staying where he was. Unfortunately, that day, staying hadn't been an option.

Karasuma had, thankfully, waited in the car. Michael didn't think he could handle being seen like that by her. Then again, Dojima wasn't all that better. Michael had never really liked Dojima, and they were just beginning to become friends. He felt bad dumping it all on her when they weren't really that close. To her credit, Dojima took it all in stride.

After a couple minutes of terrified sobbing in her arms, Michael calmed down. He stayed there for a few minutes more, silent, feeling that if he spoke he would be breaking some sort of taboo. And then she asked him, without pulling away, what was wrong.

[Eventually, Michael would thank her, but he didn't work up the courage for quite some time.]

The next day, Dojima was waiting for him after work to walk him home. Michael had learned how to not show any dramatic outward signs, but Dojima always picked up on when she should follow him into his apartment. She never let him go back into the office.

Once, at the end of a hunt, Dojima had to escort Karasuma home, due to a slight concussion. When Michael had packed his bag for the day and made to leave, he stopped at the door.

Could he really do it alone? He'd gotten a lot better now that Dojima was walking him home, it happened less, and his reaction was decreasing in severity, but could he make the trek on his own again without relapsing?

After several long, agonizing minutes, Michael prepared to pull away from the door. But with a suddenness that startled him, Sakaki roared up on his motorcycle. Flipping up his visor, the hunter called out to him.

"Need a ride?" Michael smiled in relief and joined Sakaki on the bike.

[Michael would never know that it had been the doorman who had called Sakaki to pick him up. He had observed the computer genius standing at the door, and the absence of Miss Dojima to pick him up as had become a habit after the boy had begun to leave the building. And while he didn't know the details of exactly what had happened, he knew the boy had gone up in handcuffs and not come down again for three years. He had his suspicions about what exactly the kid was going through, and resolved to do something. When Michael started leaving on his own, he treated Miss Dojima to dinner at Harry's.]

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Preview, Chapter Two: _When Tomoe asked about using a gun, they were understandably surprised. Both Robin and Kate before her had relied entirely on their Craft._


	2. Tomoe

Disclaimer: I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. This is being written only for pleasure, not for profit. Thank you. (This chapter has been revised and reposted.) —TS

Chapter Two: _When Tomoe asked about using a gun, they were understandably surprised. Both Robin and Kate before her had relied entirely on their Craft.

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When Tomoe asked about using a gun, they were understandably surprised. Both Robin and Kate before her had relied entirely on their Craft. It bothered Michael a little, that he had slid her so easily into a category, hadn't even given her a chance to establish herself before he stacked her up there with her predecessors. If that was the way he was going to think, Michael told himself sourly, then he must expect her to be hunted before the year is out.

Tomoe lasted the year. The one after that, too. She was a fierce hunter and a good person, but sometimes Michael couldn't help but think that she wouldn't survive. Not for opposition to SOLOMON or the STN-J, Tomoe was too loyal for that. What Michael feared, in the end, was that when SOLOMON fell, she would fall with it. And with each passing hunt, Michael knew this to be the truth.

It hurt. She was such a nice person, such a good friend. Tomoe was a girl who lit up the room when she entered it. She was also rigid in her belief that all Witches were evil. It was a belief that the rest of the STN-J did not share, thankfully, and this was made painfully obvious to her on a hunt five months after she arrived.

Under the lights of the briefing room, Michael explained calmly to the STN-J hunters why he did not think that the Witch previously identified was the one responsible for the death four days before hand. Karasuma nodded through his explanation, and in the end she agreed with him. She told him to get right on tracking the other witch, and stood to leave.

"Wait, aren't we going to hunt this one too?" Sakaki looked at Tomoe funny.

"Why would we?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Her confusion was almost painful to see.

"Weren't you listening? This one didn't kill the guy; we don't need to hunt him."

"Don't need to-!" Tomoe began, face going red with outrage. "Of course we need to hunt him! He's a confirmed Witch, he's gained his powers, which means we have authorization from SOLOMON to kill him. If we don't, he's going to hurt someone!" The silence following her outburst was heavy, and Michael examined the expressions of hurt on Sakaki and Dojima's faces.

"Do you know what a Witch is, Tomoe?" Miho asked. "Do you know the difference between a Witch and a hunter?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The only difference between us and the people we hunt is the decision of SOLOMON to employ us as hunters. The only reason you are alive, the only reason you are not being hunted this instant," Karasuma continued, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table before her, "Is because of a single organization's opinion of your worth. You, Tomoe, are a Witch that hunts other Witches. Think about that."

Needless to say, the young hunter didn't take that well.

[Earlier, Miho had confided to him about her diminished power and it's relation to the Orbo use. After documenting everything, Michael had made a comment on the possibilities of effects on the other hunters, and how he was very glad Robin hadn't ever used it. Miho had gone very quite, and then told him to research it more.]

Still, Tomoe did well as a STN-J hunter, and she was part of the team no matter what her beliefs were. When, after several more months of research into the Orbo, Michael asked her if he could perform some tests, she'd smiled in a trusting way and agreed to it without question. Michael's heart had lurched a little, at that, and he then went on to draw her blood without comment.

He was no chemist, obviously, but he was a genius. With enough hours of research and self-teaching, added to the hard-drives upon hard-drives of data recovered from the factory, Michael had been able to form a theory.

The first person he'd shared it with wasn't Karasuma. It was Tomoe. Michael chose Tomoe because she didn't have any sort of stake in it; her powers worked fine. Therefore, she could be rational when discussing the pros and cons with him. And she was very rational through it all, even the parts she didn't understand.

[Michael was amazed, sometimes, how Tomoe could focus so intently on something and end up with a least some partial understanding. When she'd first learned how to use a gun, Tomoe had stood there – in the shooting range – for hours on end, just practicing. When Tomoe turned all her attention to a task, the world trembled beneath her.]

With a lot of extra hours and someone to bounce ideas off of, Michael was making progress within the week. Slow progress, sure, but he'd never gotten the chance to take chemistry in the first place, so he was learning as he went. When he'd finally created the first prototype serum, perfectly ready for experimentation, he'd turned and kissed Tomoe in a moment of pure triumph.

[Nothing ever came of it, of course. Michael was far too aware of Tomoe's inevitable fall to be able to get that close to her, and Tomoe was a professional. Romance in the workplace just wouldn't do. Still, the last time Michael had kissed girl had been when he was nine and in grade school. It was something worth remembering, even if it hadn't really meant anything. For sure, it was something Michael would remember.]

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Preview, Chapter Three: _The first time Michael participated in a hunt, it was completely by accident._


	3. First Hunt

Disclaimer: I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. This is being written only for pleasure, not for profit. Thank you.

Chapter Three: _The first time Michael participated in a hunt, it was completely by accident.

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The first time Michael participated in a hunt, it was completely by accident.

Karasuma had been driving him home after a night out with the others, when Sakaki's bike ahead of them braked and turned sharply to the left. The two immediately saw why. The Witch they had lost on a hunt the day before was standing in the middle of the road, glowing in his power.

"Shit!" Miho exclaimed, hitting the brakes hard and sending Michael crashing into his seatbelt. Michael looked out and saw Sakaki off the side drawing his gun. But before the Hunter cold get off any shots, the windshield of Karasuma's car began to crack. A lot.

"Get out of the car!" Karasuma yelled, unbuckling her seat belt and throwing open her door. Michael followed suit hastily. Just as he ducked away, the windshield shattered inward. Michael stared with disbelief at the shards imbedded in his seat.

_Jesus, that was really close. I almost died._

[Later, that single thought would be all Michael could clearly remember from the entire night. Weeks would go by before he dares read his own report on the incident, and then he feels sick over the fact that half the things in it he doesn't even remember happening, let alone writing. Michael vows to start training so it never happens again.]

Michael flinched at the sound of gunfire. The Witch – Makoto Takuya – focused his eyes intently on each bullet the came towards him, and as he did they disintegrated. _That is some freaking power._ Michael managed to observe through the chaos of his panic.

In a lull while Karasuma was reloading, Takuya focused on Sakaki directly. _That _can't_ be good._ Sakaki let out a horrid scream and doubled over. Michael was on his feet and running towards the hunter before he realized how _stupid_ that was; he was going to get _killed–_

Karasuma surged forward to cover him and started firing again. Michael ducked and tackled Sakaki around the middle, sending them both to the ground and out of the Witch's line of sight. Michael sat up and looked at the young hunter. Sakaki was pale and sweating, and his face was twisted in agony.

"Hey, hey, stay with me, Sakaki." Michael told him, unzipping his riding jacket and pushing up the shirt underneath with cold, shaking fingers. The skin was unbroken, but Sakaki's torso was covered in vivid bruises. _Bruises happen when blood vessels beneath the skin break and the blood gets caught there._ Michael recalled, a sick feeling of panic crawling up his throat. He pressed his fingers against Sakaki's chest, just below his ribs, and felt pressure burn in his stomach when Sakaki let out a quiet wail of pain. Michael forced himself to ignore it as he continued downward with numb fingers, pressing against Sakaki's diaphragm and internal organs. Michael let up and rubbed his hands together violently, and then pressed them against Sakaki's stomach again.

Michael let out a groan of despair and fumbled for his cellphone.

The parked car next to them exploded.

Michael threw himself over Sakaki and closed his eyes against the hail of metal shards, cursing himself for forgetting there was a _Witch_ attacking. He heard Miho yell and more gunfire, and then Sakaki was trying to sit up, bringing his gun around like he was planning to re-join the fight.

"Sakaki, shit, stay _there_." Michael told him, pulling the gun from his friend's hand. Sakaki let out a moan and then gasped, shaking his head.

"Focus." Sakaki forced out, face contorted over the simple effort. "Witch . . . _focus_." Michael stared at Sakaki for a moment that felt like forever, noise drowned out by the sound of his own heartbeat when he realized – he _realized_ – exactly what Sakaki meant.

_Of course._

And then Karasuma was yelling and gunshots were echoing and _how the hell does nobody notice this shit going on in the street– _

Michael grasped the gun in his hand and turned, shifting his weight and spreading his legs as he stood up, right foot back, left hand around his right wrist, everything he remembered Sakaki teaching Tomoe, and _what the hell was he doing, Witch bullets won't work for him _and then Michael was firing on Makoto Takuya and _crap_ he hadn't known shooting a gun was so hard, three shots and his entire right arm was aching and the plastic was burning beneath his fingers and like hell he was actually hitting the broad side of a barn, four shots and Takuya was turning in his direction, five and Michael remembered his cover had blown up and he was in the open and he'd be dead, bleeding internally like Sakaki, before he got to bullet number seven, only six never came because as Michael pulled the trigger there was no force pushing his shoulder out of it's socket and _Jesus_ the magazine was _empty_ and the Witch was _looking_ at him, he was _focusing_ on him, Michael really _was_ going to die–

Blood exploded from the side of Takuya's face, and the man jerked to a stop before keeling over. Karasuma had done her side of things, even though Michael had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing, forgotten why he was standing in the open firing a gun at a Witch who simply needed to focus on something to break it down.

[Miho had been surprised when her yells for Sakaki turned into Michael shooting at the Witch, drawing his focus off of her enough so that she could get a shot in under his radar. When the Witch fell, everything had sort of frozen, and Miho hadn't known quite how to react to the sight of Michael standing in something that resembled a shooter's stance, gun still up and face blank, his right arm shaking from the strain. Miho had ended it, but for a moment she was afraid Michael wouldn't realize that. Then the boy drew in a sharp breath, sagged on his feet, and dropped Sakaki's gun with an ashen look on his face. She would make sure to keep a close eye on him in the weeks following, and when Michael asks her for training, Miho has her answer ready for him.]

"You- you get . . . him?" Sakaki gasped from Michael's feet, and he felt reality rush back into focus around him. With a start, Michael let go of his rigid stance and dropped the gun, falling to his knees by Sakaki.

"Shut up." Michael told him. He was no doctor, but if talking was causing Sakaki pain then it was probably a bad thing for him to talk. Quick, clumsy hands searched the debris around them for his lost cellphone, but his eyesight was blurring and his fingers were numb. "Karasuma!" Michael yelled. "Karasuma! Call an ambulance, Sakaki needs to get to the hospital _right now!_" Karasuma was at his side almost before Michael had finished yelling. She was flushed and her clothes were ruined, bits of glass sprinkled in her hair, but her eyes were clear and her hands were steady, so Michael let her dial the phone.

It was the first time he'd actively participated in a hunt. But, accidental or not, he'd been far too unprepared, far too _disillusioned_. Michael had no idea it was like that, no idea his hunters faced that regularly.

Karasuma was the only one who didn't bug him about planting himself at Sakaki's bedside, because she was the only one who understood. [Michael would never find out how much Miho really _did _understand, would never know how much the sight of him, shaking and pale and just short of going into shock as he hastily listed Sakaki's symptoms to her so she could relay them to the operator over the phone, had spoken to a deep ache of guilt and pain in her heart. He would never know how much he'd _scared_ Miho, who feared loosing her team to themselves far more than to a Witch. But it was probably for the best that he didn't.]

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Preview, Chapter Four: _When the letter came, the first thing Michael did was ask the Boss for vacation time._


	4. Letter

Disclaimer: I do not own Witch Hunter Robin. This is being written only for pleasure, not for profit. Thank you.

Chapter Four: _When the letter came, the first thing Michael did was ask the Boss for vacation time.

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When the letter came, the first thing Michael did was ask the Boss for vacation time.

Previously, Michael had spent a lot of his spare time sitting with his portable terminal in the courtyard, next to the well/secret passage, hoping that Robin would eventually make contact with him. Everyone at the STN-J that had worked with her would gladly drop everything to help her and Amon out, but Michael was always hoping Robin would come to him again.

She did. But not the way that Michael had been expecting. Robin sent him a letter.

It was in French, which surprised him, but was a very effective way for her to be sure that nobody else at the office would be able to read it. Not that it came to the office. The letter actually showed up at his apartment (how Robin got his address, he had no idea), but Michael had no doubt that the STN monitored his mail. Amon was probably aware of that as well, which was why the letter was not only in French, but also disguised as a pen-pal letter from a hacker friend he'd met online.

It took a little while for Michael to puzzle out the clues, but once he did, it was a matter of going into work like normal and casually mentioning the letter to Dojima, who predictably jumped all over it like a pack of wolves. It wasn't long until she had the entire office telling him he should go visit his friend in France, "get out for a while, live some!" So, on the urging of many of his colleagues, Michael asked the Boss for vacation time.

It was a thing of beauty. The Boss gave him _two weeks_ off, said he'd more than earned it in his three straight years of service, and even _paid for the tickets_. It was incredible. For anyone but Robin, Michael might have felt a little guilty taking advantage of everyone like that, but he knew that if they found out they'd understand.

Michael didn't remember the last time he'd been on a plane very well. He'd only been seven or eight years old. Old enough that he still remembered how to read and write both English and French, but long enough ago that he'd stopped thinking in either. The plane ride gave him some motion sickness, which he doesn't remember having last time, but the real hard part was arriving in France and actually hearing people speak in French for the first time in years. Not only was the accent off from what he remembered, but they spoke so _fast_. If there was such a thing as language shock, Michael experienced it right there in the airport.

There was a teenager about his age, holding a sign with his name on it, kindly written in both Romaji and Hiragana, in what was obviously Amon's handwriting, and Michael felt a surge of triumph as he realized for sure that both Amon and Robin made it out of the factory collapse. He waved at the teen holding the sign and walked over, his carry on basically holding everything he owned, even after a year living outside the office, so he had no checked baggage to pick up.

The teenager introduced himself as Christian Benoit in halting Nihongo, which amused Michael, because wasn't his letter in French?

"_Christian!_" Michael said, laughing, for any eyes on them. "_Come on, you know I speak French._" He told the teenager in his language. He was a little rusty, and the accent was startlingly different, but Michael believed he was understandable. "_Besides,_" Michael added, clapping Christian on the shoulder and steering him out of the airport, hopefully away from the multitude of cameras, "_Your Japanese is horrible._"

"_I know, I know._" Christian said, good-naturedly. "_I guess I wanted to give you a little slice of home. I mean, we're always talking on the net in French, so I feel a little guilty._"

"_Don't worry about it._" Michael told him, carefully scanning the airport and surroundings for anyone obviously following them. He doesn't see any. "_It keeps me in practice._"

Christian led him to a car, which was strange to get into after so many years in Japan. The driving was even stranger, as it felt like he was on the wrong side of the road all over again. It was déjà vu of when he first moved to Japan.

It took about fifteen minutes to get to Christian's flat. Michael followed him up, and inside met another guy wearing a wig that looked like his hair. Michael forgot the French word for doppelganger, so he tried "_Body double?_" and the other Michael smirked at him as he handed Michael a short brown wig of his own.

"Out the back." The fake Michael said in truly terrible Japanese. Michael winced.

"_Stick to French._" Michael advised. The body double nodded, then pointed again towards the back door. Michael put the wig on, backwards at first, which was embarrassing, but went as he was instructed once it was on.

Behind the building there was an older woman, mid-fifties maybe, who chatted him up in southern flavored French as they meandered through the back alleyways of Marseilles. They eventually came to a parked car that the two got into. There was a new ID and passport for him in the glove compartment, and after stowing them in his bag Michael and the woman talked about French and Canadian politics and geo-economics for the better part of the two and a half hour trip to Monaco.

In Monaco, Michael met another contact, and even if he was good at going with the flow, Michael was starting to wonder how big Robin's network actually was. To achieve this sort of organization in only a year . . . it was frightening.

The newest contact, a laughing blonde girl his age who hung off his arm, took him across the border into Italy. He used his new passport, and they took a train to Milano, where they thankfully had lunch together in what seemed to be the picture-perfect date. Afterward, they strolled around together until they were picked up by a blue van. They were taken somewhere in the city (Michael wasn't sure where, which he was certain was intentional. Amon was a pretty paranoid guy, after all.) and let out in what looked like a warehouse that had been converted into a half lab, half office space.

Robin was there waiting for them. She'd grown a little, and was now pulling her hair back in a single bun. She wasn't wearing the Abby clothes either, though the black turtleneck shirt and white skirt over black leggings wasn't too far off. She still looked like Robin.

"Michael." She said, smile spreading across her face.

"Robin." Michael said back, and only years of living in Japan kept him from hugging her.

Robin apparently didn't have that qualm. She ran up and threw her arms around him.

"How are you? I'd heard they were letting you out now, that's so great Michael!"

"Yeah, well, the deal I made was with Zaizen. And the Chief is the new Administrator, so he and I made a new deal." For a moment, he and Robin just looked at each other. "You have no idea how much everyone has missed you. You and Amon. Where is he, by the way? I have something I need to talk to him about."

"He's here somewhere. I'll have Mary go fetch him." Robin shot off quick instructions to the blonde girl in Italian, and she left with a nod.

"While we're waiting, why don't you tell me what you need?"

"What I need?" Robin asked.

"Robin. You didn't send for me to come here, go through all of the subterfuge in getting to your base, just to say hello. For one, Amon wouldn't have allowed it. For another, you're smarter than that. If you'd just needed information, we could have done that by post. What do you need?"

Robin smiled, looking surprised and happy that he'd figured it out. "You're right, of course." She said. "We do need you for something. We need you to set us up with an encrypted network, and we need access to the STN database."

"Wow." Michael said after a moment. "You don't ask for much, do you?"

"Can you do it?" Amon's voice demanded from somewhere to his right. Michael jumped slightly and turned to see him approaching.

"In two weeks? It'll be tough."

"Can you do it."

"Yeah, Amon. I can do it." Michael cracked his knuckles. "One totally unique and impenetrable operations network, and unseen access to the STN database. Done. But I'm gonna need some stuff."

"Make a list." Robin suggested. "Mary will get you anything you need. In the meantime, you needed to talk to Amon?"

"Yeah, that's right." Michael confirmed, turning to the former STN-J hunter. He'd also changed his style a little bit, button-up white shirt under a dark jacket and black slacks – even with the hair, Amon could probably blend into anywhere in the city dressed like that. "Could we maybe go somewhere private?" Michael asked. Amon eyed him, and then nodded.

"Follow me."

It was a small office cubicle in the corner, out of casual listening distance but still close enough that Amon could call for Robin if he needed. Not that he would need to with Michael, or that Amon would need Robin's help to deal with him, but Michael understood that Amon couldn't know if HQ had turned him. Hopefully what he was about to give the man would ease his mind on that matter.

Michael pulled a USB flash drive out of his bag and set it on the desk.

"What's this?" Amon asked.

"On that drive are the instructions and formula for making the Orbo cure." Michael told him. Amon looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"There's an orbo cure?"

"It's an anti-Orbo injection. I developed it myself. No one else has this formula, or even the knowledge that one might need to be made. I figured that HQ had no real use for my research, considering that only STN-J Hunters and Plant members have used the Orbo and thus suffered its effects."

There was a long pause. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"Robin never used the Orbo, which we're all thankful for, and Dojima had only minimal exposure, though she wanted the shot anyway. There were no changes or side affects with her, by the way. But I did a lot of research when Karasuma mentioned to me that the scientists at the Plant noted her diminished abilities as side effects of the Orbo, and also that they were unable to use her to make Orbo as a result, which I'm guessing is the only reason we got her out of there alive."

"Michael. The point."

"The point is that I gave Miss Karasuma this treatment two months ago, and not only is she more mentally stable, but there's a marked increase in the strength of her abilities. She's nearly back up to S-class at this point. Haruto has still refused to take it, but the data I've gathered on the results of her treatment alone have told me a lot of things."

"Like what?" Amon leaned back in his seat, face blank, which told Michael he wasn't happy with what he was hearing. But Michael was going to tell him anyway, because Amon was his friend, and he needed to know.

"Like that you and Haruto both need to take this treatment, even if neither of you are active Craft users. The reason," Michael continued when it looked like Amon was going to cut him off, "Is that the Orbo has not only stunted the natural development of your abilities, but has caused a _ninety-seven_ percent increase in probability that both of you will have major mental instability when your powers do awaken. And considering both of you are active Hunters and have the ability to effectively use anti-Witch bullets, and both of your lineages, that's a when, not an if."

Amon picked the flash drive up and examined it. He still looked blank. "Have you explained all of this to Sakaki?"

"Yeah, and he still refuses to take it. Haruto thinks that because the Orbo stunted the development of his Witch genes that if he leaves things as they are he won't awaken. However, the data just doesn't support that. He's being stupid."

[Privately, in that moment, Amon feels kinship with Sakaki for maybe the first time ever, as the scene of his mother's awakening plays over and over in his head. If he's afraid of anything, it's to become like her. To become crazy the moment his powers awaken. But he also trusts Michael, and Michael says that he'll awaken either way, and the way he is now he is _more_ likely to go crazy when he does. Amon decides then and there that he'll take the treatment.]

"I'll think about it." Amon announced, and slipped the flash drive into his coat pocket. Michael smiled, because that was more than he'd gotten out of Sakaki. He knew that Amon was smart enough to figure out that the best solution would be to take it, even if it took him a little while. Hopefully Michael would know by the end of his two weeks what Amon had decided.

Either way, he had some work to do. But first: "Hey, Amon? Could you point me in the direction of the bathroom?"

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Preview, Chapter Five: _Michael was used to long nights and late hours. Hell, he hardly slept as it was. Still, he didn't appreciate being woken up at three in the morning every goddamned day._


End file.
